Chapter 2

Jerry waved at us from our front yard. He was holding his weed whacker. He was clearly glad to see us, and we waved back. It was a little surreal because he knew all our dirty secrets. Yet, there was something “normalizing” about the interaction, and it made it feel less awkward because he was so encouraging and friendly towards us.

Hope drove, and Misty got in the back and strapped in. My sister didn’t ask if she could drive. She just did it and no one told her she couldn’t.

We didn’t make Misty strip down. Our mom looked hot in that skimpy little skirt and tight corset. My brothers pulled her knees apart and reached in her pussy like they were reaching into a sack to pull out some marbles.

“Oh, oh my! Don’t get me all squirty-juicy over Hope’s skirt!” Misty blushed. The guys lightened up, and she told them that they didn’t have to stop.

Once I got used to my brother’s playing with her, she asked if she could wear clothes in the car more often. “You can still reach most of the important parts?”

“Nope, this is a rare exception, just like walking out the front door of your own house, Pet,” I insisted. I watched Misty’s expression in the rearview mirror. Her lip quivered just a little as she accepted that reality.

“So, I always ride nude unless I have permission?” she asked. My brothers were focused on her pussy, and that was making it hard for her to hold a conversation.

“Strip in the backseat, put your dildo down your throat as far as it can go, handcuff your hands behind your back,” we explained as if it should be intuitive and understood. This was turning out to be an exciting day.

“How am I supposed to do this if I need to pick Misty up from work, but you guys aren’t with me?” Hope asked as we eased up to the Stop sign. Misty blushed when she looked to the left and saw a woman she recognized walking her dog. Misty was clothed from the top up, but the woman saw the guy teasing and goofing on her.

“What do you mean, Hope?” I ignored what was going on in the back.

“I may have to stop for gas, get her credit card, or we may need to go shopping.”

“Just come home, and we’ll unlock her,” I shrugged.

“Misty is supposed to ride cuffed, so when we get back in the car to ride somewhere, she’ll just cuff herself again. Don’t make her do that when it’s just us in the car,” she suggested.

I asked the guys if they thought that was a fair compromise.

“Are you going to make sure that Misty doesn’t play with her pussy?” Trent asked as he played with his mother’s pussy.

“I am not going to do jack squat! I am not IN this with you guys,” Hope insisted. “I am trying it out – but I am not going to do YOUR jobs too.”

“You got IN this with us when you had Misty clean your room. She did a thorough job of organizing it, by the way.”

I was prepared to remind Hope that she got into it when she got free use of the car to pick up and drop Misty off at work, but my sister got it.

“This is just an experiment to me, and so far, it’s not really my bag,” my sister huffed before sighing and accepting the new rule. “Just give me a handcuff key then,” she grumbled. I was more than happy to give her the second one I had. James and Trent wanted one as well. I said I’d be home. We ultimately decided to use the toy cuffs in the car and be on the honor system.

The guys removed two of the dildos in Misty’s purse. They held her legs apart and fished the tip of one dildo around in her pussy. Trent stuck the other one in Misty’s mouth, held by the back of her hair, and started forcing the dildo down her throat.

“I am also not keen on Misty being gagged in the car. I may need to talk to her and ask her if we need to get groceries,” she said.

I suggested just pulling the dildo out whenever she needed Misty to talk. It worked for us as the family meeting, where we made up new rules and revised old ones.

“I am not going to do that while I am driving, and I don’t want people looking over at us and seeing her bobbing her tits with a dildo in her mouth, Michael.”

I could actually understand that. “Fine, Misty, climb down into the bottom of the passenger or back seat when you are alone in the car with Hope. Handcuff yourself, and if Hope WANTS you to gag yourself, she’ll tell you beforehand. Is that fair?”

Misty was being throat-fucked by a dildo and gave a thumb’s up as she struggled and murmured while Trent and James roughed her up and choked her with the dildo as they masturbated her pussy.

“I can’t believe I am doing this,” Hope admitted. “I knew getting to drive the car would be too good to be true.”

The traffic was pretty heavy at the Ren Faire, and we were arriving late. They were holding it across from a local university, so there were lots of young people volunteering. The parking lot was staffed with young people dressed in red scarlet robes or tabards that gave them a medieval look. They directed us to an empty field to park.

We saw entire families dressed as elves or knights and damsels. Most of them were not even remotely historical. The most common theme I saw was women with white tavern-style shirts and open bodices, corsets, and tight-fitting skirts. Most of them wore leather hats that reminded me of plumed cowboy hats.

The men tended to wear black vests, red tunic-style shirts, and leather pants with a similar cowboy-style hat. The hats weren’t like a gunslinger from the Wild West – but quite similar. We saw fat people, little people, old people – everyone of all demographics.

Well, that’s not entirely true. I didn’t see Asian, black, or Hispanic people at all. I am sure there were a few, but it was mostly white people. Most of the women wore glasses and were a little on the plus side, but there were a couple of sexy women.

When we parked, I noticed that Hope had not turned the wheels and straightened them out. “You aren’t the boss of me just because Misty is your pet,” she informed me bitterly before starting up the car and straightening out the car.

Misty walked slightly to our left and behind us. Hope walked a good three yards in front of us. I called out, “Hey, I thought you wanted to hang out with us because you said we never do anything together. Now, you are distancing yourself.”

“Then keep up, slowpoke,” Hope didn’t slow down her pace.

Once we arrived at the front gate, there were several ticket booths and a garish yellow grand entranceway that had been painted like a portal to another world. It was decorated in red letter script with old English lettering. There were people handing out flyers and maps and taking tickets.

“Ah, stick close to me, don’t say anything,” Hope told us to follow her lead.

There was a very attractive girl with dark hair, dark eyes, and light brown skin. She looked waif thin with tiny breasts and might have been half Asian and half-Hispanic in a very exotic combination. The girl was wearing a white shirt and a long dress that was cut down to the waist so that the shirt covered her breasts. The dress was in the style of the Middle Ages. However, if she wasn’t wearing the shirt, both of her tits and even her belly button would be visible. The girl had a flower stuffed between her boobs and was taking tickets. My sister groaned when she saw her like she wanted to avoid her, but she walked right up to her.

“Hey, Marceline,” Hope greeted her like long-lost friends who hadn’t seen each other in ages.

“Hope! You rose from the dead!”

“Yeah, I don’t normally like to wake up before noon on Sundays.”

“I am sorry to hear about you and Edward. What happened?”

Hope handed her a ticket and what appeared to be several pieces of cardboard. “I can’t talk now. I’ve got my family with me. I trust these tickets will suffice?”

“Indeed, M’lady, you have purchased our premium tickets, and you and your noble family shall be our honored guests, Ha’zah!”

Hope stood there and nodded without responding.

The young woman bent forward and raised an arm in an elaborate gesture of welcome. It was corny, but I was already enjoying it. She seemed familiar to me, but I couldn’t place her. She let us walk on by as if she had taken our tickets.

“Who was that?” I asked after she let us pass, and we hustled inside the mock portcullis and drawbridge entrance to the fair. I didn’t ask how we just got in without paying. My sister acted like it was no big deal.

“She’s a goth bitch. I hate her,” Hope said. I thought she might be kidding. Hope had smiled, Marissa had smiled, and to any observer, they were at least friendly acquaintances and likely good friends. Yet, I felt that my sister wasn’t kidding.

Once inside the fairgrounds, we could go left or right around a main circle. There were dozens of smaller roads that led off the outer circle with booths featuring gifts, clothes, swords, and various exotic foods and drinks. They also had pony rides, mazes, and various entertainment venues set up.

There was a generally festive quality to the experience the moment we entered. The weather was nice, the sky was blue with few clouds in the sky. I could smell jasmine and honeysuckle nearby. The venue had been set up in a field that may have been dedicated just for events like this. There were big shady oak trees around the camp dotting that provided shade and added to the overall ambiance.

Dozens of people walked around us once we entered the gate and tried to get our bearings. Many of them wearing simply t-shirts, jeans, and the normal outfits we might have worn today if our sister hadn’t insisted.

However, I was glad we had dressed up. The people who dressed up seemed to be having more fun. I noticed almost every adult had a Stein or a mug with them. A few even had big drinking horns. This was an excuse to drink alcohol for many of them – but I didn’t see anyone stumbling around drunk.

I did see a lot of smiles, hear a lot of laughter and happy sounds.

The smell of roasted pork wafted across our noses, and the sounds of mandolins playing a jaunty tune from the high middle ages floated with it. All at once, our senses began to adjust to the frivolity and carefree nature of the entire thing.

The Ren fair didn’t try to recreate the Middle age or teach history. It didn’t take itself seriously enough to do that. it was quite literally people just having fun in the moment. I couldn’t help but smile.

My initial question was, why did my sister like coming to these? She was generally morose and didn’t strike me as the target demographic for this group. I’d say the average age of people around me was late 40 – 50 years old. However, there truly was every age represented, both young and old.

“Lead on,” I suggested. Hope took the lead and walked us around.

“Don’t do that pidgin Shakespeare stuff,” she instructed. I didn’t know what that term meant. She explained with an example, “Greetings M’lord, Doth thee know where thee royal privy is? For I must take a royalty shitteth before I soil my breeches.”

We laughed. She told us that it got old really fast.

We did hear people using Pidgin Shakespeare, but not quite as colorfully as my sister. It was usually a merchant or a random entertainer walking around.

There was a man painted from head to toe in gold paint, including his medieval garb. He’d pose for pictures and expect a donation. There was a pixie fairie woman dashing about tossing glitter but remaining silent. She was an attractive redhead, and while she was completely family-friendly, the outfit she had on was incredibly small. None of her body parts were on display, but the leather loincloth skirt she wore left little to the imagination.

I noticed one woman with breasts larger than my sister ‘s in a skirt smaller than the one my mother wore. She was strutting her stuff. She had bleached blonde hair, and while she didn’t have a very attractive face, she commanded a lot of attention. I thought she’d be the exception.

Then I saw two brunette women with those white shirts that show off their cleavage, clearly not wearing bras, dancing around and putting on really bad cockney accents. I think they were pretending to be chimney sweeps. They seemed to want to take pictures with people for donations as well.

“Oi Guvvner, would you like to sweep MY chimney? It’s been a while since it’s had a proper dusting!” the young woman said to a man twice her age nearby. He was standing with his wife and two kids. It was pretty obviously double entendre. The man stood dumbfounded.

“You only get the jokes you are supposed to get. If it goes over your ‘edd, then it wasn’t a joke meant for ya to understand. Listen, how about a nice family photo! Just me and you, behind the Black Bart’s Tavern?” she winked and openly flirted.

The wife was the one who opened her purse and handed them five dollars.

“A five-dollar piece? Thank you, M’lady! I can finally get me dear ol’ Granny those implants she’s been wanting!”

There was a raunchy quality to the entertainment that seemed pervasive from the moment we arrived. It wasn’t overtly sexual like tits in your face and asses. It was more like the movie National Lampoon’s Vacation 1980 version of humor. That movie had accidental nudity and flashed tits, but it was from a different time and sensibility.

I felt like that was what was happening here. The two trampy chimney sweepers got on either side of the man and smiled while his wife snapped a picture with their cell phone. I watched them both reach behind him and grab his ass cheeks and squeeze tightly before the picture was taken. The wife would never have seen them do it because their hands were behind her husband’s back. They had obviously done that routine before.

“We call that a cup and a feel; care to have another picture? Just in case that one turned out blurry?” she asked. The husband was shell-shocked and stumbled away. His wife and kids laughed. I don’t think the kids had any idea what had just happened.

“Oi, looky, looky, here! What have we got? Three lovely lads and their lady loves?” the two trampy girls approached us. They moved like ragdolls, frequently twirling their brooms.

“That’s my sister and my mom,” I spoke up.

“Oi, incest is best when it’s kept in the family, my brother used to say,” one girl said. It was so shocking that my jaw dropped open. I couldn’t believe she’d say that out loud in front of people she just met. There were other patrons of the fair walking nearby within earshot, and nobody seemed to be surprised at all.

“Sorry, did we confuse you, Mate? She’s saying she thinks you fuck your sister,” the other girl said.

I started to turn beet red.

“Perhaps we should try another tack? I am Thelma, and this is Louise, and we are the Fannybottom sisters,” they introduced themselves and asked if they could get a donation to take a picture with us.